


a love story told in milkshakes and french fries

by grasslandgirl



Series: tatbilb-verse [2]
Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - To All the Boys I've Loved Before Fusion, M/M, Peter POV, Tumblr Prompt, helpless fluff and pining, so you should read that first if you haven't or this won't make sense lmao, this is a continuation of you gonna break my heart Sammy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grasslandgirl/pseuds/grasslandgirl
Summary: three times Sam and Peter get a milkshake and fries(set in the you gonna break my heart, Sammy verse!!)---response to the prompt on tumblr:"av prompt: sam and peter going to a netflix release party shenanigans or tatbilb/av universe where sam and peter go out on their first official date (like the beginning of the 2nd movie)"
Relationships: Sam Ecklund/Peter Maldonado
Series: tatbilb-verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665385
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	a love story told in milkshakes and french fries

**Author's Note:**

> aka. part one of Sav uses the quarantine as a way to force herself to write all the fic she's been avoiding

The first time was at the 24 Stop Diner, after the Wayback party. 

“So, wait, why’d you agree to do this, then?” Peter asked.

“Because,” Sam said without pause, “this doesn’t count. It’s not real either.” 

Something in Peter’s chest clenched.  _ If it isn’t real it can’t hurt you, right? _ Sam had said. Peter knew what he and Sam were doing wasn’t real, that was the whole point. They had made an entire contract outlining it earlier. Peter knew the facts, he understood what he was getting himself into. But that didn’t stop him from feeling somehow giddy about dragging Sam around at Dylan’s party. About introducing him as his boyfriend, something that felt weirdly novel, despite all the times he’d done it with Ashley. There was something about falling back into his and Sam’s old rhythm of jokes and insults, about wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulders and touching his hair that felt… familiar. 

Like somewhere in the back of his head, a fourteen year old Peter, in the height of his helpless eighth-grade crush on his best friend, was taking a victory lap. 

It was unnerving, to say the least, and it didn’t help that Sam’s reaffirmation that their relationship was fake and apparently held no sentimentality for him left Peter oddly… disappointed. 

“Of course.” Peter forced a smile onto his face, and pushed that unsettled feeling deep down, until he could tell himself it wasn’t there anymore. “Sam Ecklund; you’re always good for pure honesty.” 

“Right,” Sam agreed, an expression Peter couldn’t parse on his face. He made himself let it go.

The awkward turn the conversation had taken dropped a blanket of silence onto them, with Peter left picking at the remnants of Sam’s fries, and Sam staring absently out of the diner window. The parking lot outside was a field of black, dotted with street lights that looked like stars through the old glass of the windows. There was something pensive and forlorn in Sam’s expression; one that made him look old and young at the same time. On impulse alone, Peter raised his phone and took a quick photo of Sam. The lights of the diner were warm and gave the photo an old, faded feeling to it; and Peter felt like he was looking at his old best friend from middle school, and a complete stranger all at once. 

Eventually, the lingering awkwardness passed and took the silence with it, and Peter forgot about the photo he’d secretly taken until he’d dropped Sam off and caught a glimpse of his newly-changed lockscreen. Him and Sam, outside of Dylan’s house, grinning and leaning on each other. 

All of a sudden, Peter felt the urge to post a photo of him and Sam. To prove to- to everyone, that he was happy, that he was moving on. What was the point of this whole thing if Ashley didn’t see it, right? Maybe if Peter posted something public, Ashley would stop hovering around his locker before the bell, sullen and aloof; or texting Peter innocuously in the middle of the night. 

It had been awkward, in the weeks after their break up, with Ashley jumping wildly between ignoring Peter completely, and trying to unsubtly reconnect. He was giving Peter more attention now than he had in the last few months of their relationship, and Peter hadn’t realized how strained they had become until he’d finally broken it off. 

Peter suspected part of the reason Ashley was reacting the way he was is because he never expected Peter to be the one to break up with him. Though, to be honest, Peter had never expected it of himself either; hadn’t even known if he was going to go through with it until he was halfway into his pre-planned speech. 

Peter was ready to move on. 

He flicked through his camera roll after he got back home, picking one of the outtake photos from their impromptu lock screen photo shoot; and then, in a moment of uncharacteristic impulse, Peter selected the single candid from the cafe, and posted it as well.  _ “A Night Out with Sam :) ❤️,” _ he captioned it, not sure what else to write, before steeling himself and pressing post. 

A few seconds later, a handful of likes popped up in his notifications- Ming, Spencer, Dylan- as well as a comment from Dylan that read,  _ “good for u on getting some dick, dude,” _ which was about the level of classiness that Peter had learned to expect from Dylan.

Then, a few seconds later, a new notification:  **_@ketchuppacket_ ** _ liked your photo. _

Then another:  **_@ketchuppacket_ ** _ commented on your photo- “aww babe u type like my grandma” _

Peter smiled to himself.

* * *

The second time was a cast party after a show Sam was in.

Peter had gone to the show, and even convinced Dylan and the others not to get stoned beforehand this time. He grinned to himself proudly as Sam nailed his solo and made the audience laugh over and over again. He stole the show, which didn’t surprise Peter. The few times he’d gone to see one of the school plays with Ashley he’d always been surprised and impressed by Sam’s skill onstage; but it felt different now, sitting in the audience as Sam’s boyfriend.  _ Fake  _ boyfriend, technically. 

Which was why it was weird when Dylan looked over at Peter at the end of the show and yelled over the applause, “Your boy was really good, dude!” and Peter’s stomach twisted with the knowledge that Sam wasn’t  _ his boy. _

After the show, Sam came barreling into the lobby, still half in costume, surrounded by other members of the cast. He grinned when he saw Peter and the Waybacks, immediately turning towards them and greeting Peter with a side hug and Dylan with a perfectly-executed fist bump. Peter felt that same weird squeeze in his stomach, seeing Sam and his best friend get along so well. 

“Really sick show, Ecklund,” Spencer said, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

“Yeah dude, I think I saw Lucas cry when that one chick died in the-”

“Dude I did  _ not  _ cry; you know I’ve got allergies and shit.” Lucas interjected.

Dylan rolled his eyes, “It’s fucking November, what the fuck kind of allergies do you have?”

“Fucking…  _ dust, _ dude! It was dusty as shit in that old-ass theater.”

“Whatever dude-” Peter rolled his eyes as Dylan and Lucas started arguing. 

“It was a really good show, Sam,” He said, and Sam glanced over at him briefly before looking away, dragging a hand through his hair in what Peter was quickly learning to be a sign of nervousness.

“Really?” he asked, a flash of self-consciousness shining through Sam’s rush of post-show adrenaline. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, feeling a weird urge to be earnest, to reassure Sam that the show- that he- had really been as good as everyone was saying. “You were really great.”

Sam smiled, soft and small, “Thanks Peter, that uh, that means a lot.” He tapped his fingers against his phone, clutched in his hands, in a rapidfire rhythm. “Hey would you- there’s a tradition, after the show the whole cast goes out to dinner together closing night, would you wanna go?”

“Oh,” Peter stomach squeezed, “yeah, uh-”

“I just,” Sam continues quickly, “people usually bring their significant others so it might be like, weird, if you weren’t there, you know?”

The squeezing got tighter. “Right. Yeah. Sounds great.”

“Cool,” the tension seeps away from Sam’s face. “I’m gonna go say hi to a few more people and then I’ll circle back around, yeah?” 

Peter nodded, “Go greet your adoring fans.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back,” he said, and squeezed Peter’s shoulder as he walked passed him, deeper into the crowd.

Later, Peter found himself squished tightly in a booth between Sam and a girl from the show that he vaguely recognized, surrounded by rowdy theatre kids and an exhausted-looking waitress. Sam’s leg was pressed against his, thigh to knee, and their feet kept bumping under the table. Peter was hyperaware and electric. 

Sam ordered a chocolate milkshake and fries, and Peter got a soda and stole from Sam’s plate. Sam would glare at him or try and smack his hand away every time, but without any real vehemence. Peter was reminded of that first night, the two of them in the 24 Stop Diner late at night. 

The other cast members were loud, but they were friendly and welcoming to Peter, and the person sitting across from him in the booth turned out to be another actor’s boyfriend, who looked just as out of place as Peter felt. But the raucous laughter and kinetic energy of the group was contagious and by the end of the night Peter found himself laughing and shouting along with the rest of them, and even singing parts of the show’s finale number as they were politely ushered out of the restaurant and into the parking lot.

“Thanks for coming,” Sam said quietly, once it was just the two of them in Peter’s car again. “I know they can kind of- be a lot sometimes.”

“You’ve seen Dylan and the others,” Peter replied, and Sam laughed, “I’m not really someone who can judge having loud friends.”

“Fair enough.”

“I had fun, though.”

“Yeah?” And again, there was that tiny crack of vulnerability behind Sam’s shining confident mask. The investigator in Peter wanted to dig, wanted to ask why Sam was so uncertain, why he doubted himself and his friends so much, even though it was something he so clearly enjoyed.

“Yeah,” was all Peter said, “I never knew cast parties could get so wild.”

“Oh that?” Sam said, and Peter saw him turn in the passenger seat out of the corner of his eye. “That was  _ tame, _ Pete, comparatively speaking. God, you haven’t seen wid until you’ve seen the cast of  _ Hamlet, _ hyped up on red bull and sour patch kids, start a dance battle in a parking lot-”

For the hundredth time that night, Peter laughed, and the squeezing in his stomach got a little tighter. 

* * *

The third time- and the first  _ real  _ time- was after the ski trip.

“Go on a date with me- a real one?” Peter had breathed inbetween kisses, because something about Sam’s lips on his mouth- on his face on his neck- had made Peter lose almost all cognitive function, until all he could think was a longwinded stream of  _ Sam-Sam-kissing-oh-fuck-want-touch-date-don’t-stop-kissing-date-real-please-real-Sam-real-Sam. _

Sam had pulled back at Peter’s words, settling onto Peter’s lap from where they were perched on the armchair and leaning back just enough so that Peter could see him- hair a wreck, face flushed, and smiling at him so broadly Peter almost thought his face was going to tear in two. “Yes,” Sam breathed, and pressed another searing kiss on Peter’s mouth, “yes.”

And then here they were, back in Oceanside, and Peter was waiting in his car outside of Sam’s house. It was something he’d done dozens of times over the past few months, but that didn’t stop Peter from borderline freaking out mere moments before he was supposed to knock on the door.

He couldn’t help feeling the pressure, now that this- whatever it was he and Sam were doing- was real. There were stakes now, expectations. Peter couldn’t help remembering Sam’s answer from ages ago, when Peter had asked why he hadn’t ever dated anyone before.  _ If it isn’t real it can’t hurt you, right? _ But it was real now, and they were both putting themselves up to be hurt, opening themselves to vulnerability, all in the hopes that it was worth it. Peter thought it was.

He took a deep breath, and turned off the car.

Leah, Sam’s older sister, opened the door when he knocked; and fixed Peter with a piercing, knowing look. “Date night?” She asked lightly.

“Yeah.”

She smiled at him, and placed a hand on his arm as he stepped into the entryway of the Ecklund home. “Be good to my little brother, yeah?” She said, a razor-sharp smile that reminded Peter of Jenna on her face. He nodded, trying his best to seem only moderately nervous. Her smile softened. “You’ll be ok, you’re over the moon for each other, that’s what’s important. And trust me, first dates- no matter how long you’ve been fake dating- are always a little awkward, but you’ll make it through it. Also-” her hand tightened on his arm as she narrowed her eyes at him- “hurt my little brother and I’ll fucking end you, got it?”

Peter nodded again.

“Good.” Leah brightened, patting him on the shoulder. “I always thought you were good for him.”

“Le,” Sam said, walking down the hall, “I asked you not to shovel-talk my new, not-fake boyfriend.”

“What,” Leah said, unapologetic, “you thought I was gonna let Peter off easy just cause you guys have been awkwardly dancing circles around each other while pseudo-dating for the last three months? No way in hell. And even if I didn’t do it, he’s gonna get one from Jenna anyway so-”

“Ok!” Sam said loudly, cutting his sister off and grabbing Peter by the arm. “That’s enough sisterly love for tonight! Thanks so much, love you bunches-  _ bye moms, bye Kara-” _ He yelled towards the back of the house- “let’s go Pete ok  _ bye!” _

Sam slammed the door behind them, and then leaned against it, looking sheepish and biting down on a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Peter echoed.

Sam looked nice. They weren’t going anywhere fancy, but his jeans were clean and his shirt fit him nicely and- who was Peter kidding; he always thought Sam looked nice. 

“You ready to go?” Peter asked, the edges of his nervousness peaking through his voice, but Sam just smiled, warm and certain.

“Definitely.”

They went to a movie, and held hands throughout all of it. Sam promised Peter he’d make out with him during the scary parts- to which Peter argued that they were going to see a romantic comedy at Sam’s request, and then ended up making out with him in the theatre anyway. 

The movie was sweet, and Sam kept whispering jokes in Peter’s ear to make him laugh, much to the distaste of the little old lady sitting in front of them, and they shared a popcorn and a box of sour patch kids. 

Afterwards, they walked out of the theatre, still holding hands. “Pete?” Sam said when they reached the car, tugging Peter back by the hand to pull him into a kiss. “Good date,” he whispered as he pulled away.

“It’s not over yet.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is my movie not good enough for your pretentious cinematic tastes?” Peter bit down on a laugh.

“No, no it’s not that. It’s just- it’s a surprise, okay?”

Sam squeezed Peter’s hand, “Cool. Surprises are cool.”

They ended up making out in the parking lot for ten minutes before the same old lady from the theater came up and yelled at them about public decency and they drove away giggling.

Peter took them to the 24 Stop Diner.

Sam’s smile widened in surprise as they pulled into the parking lot. 

“I thought it’d be a good place to end our first  _ real  _ date-”

“Because our first fake date ended here,” Sam finished.

“Yeah.”

“I never pegged you for a sentimental bastard, Maldonado,” Sam said, a shit-eating grin on his face.

A dozen half-composed comebacks flitted through Peter’s brain, but none of them were good enough, so he just leaned over and kissed Sam’s grin right off his face.

They went inside and sat in the same booth as before. Peter ordered them milkshakes and an order of fries to share, and Sam slid his foot up next to Peter’s underneath the table.

They talked, they laughed, and at the end of the night, Sam posted a picture of Peter, grinning at Sam behind the camera, with the simple caption,  _ “call out post for my bf- he won’t stop stealing my fries.” _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! comments and kudos always make my day <333  
> my tumblr is [@grasslandgirl](https://grasslandgirl.tumblr.com/) if you want to send me a prompt, my inbox is always open and i'll try to get to it!!


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